RPlog:Touch of the Dark Side
Korynn Fleming, more appropriately known currently as 'Jakob Pak', has been enjoying a drink in the company of another spacer-looking type. They've been conversing quietly, with Korynn's eyes showing a deep curiosity with every man the word speaks. Eventually, 'Jakob Pak' smirks wryly, and hands a couple of credits in a discreet fashion toward the spacer, speaking another quiet word before rising to his feet, ever so slowly. It's a shame, really... that poor fellow just signed his death certificate, but he won't know it for a few days. With even footsteps, Jakob Pak moves toward the bar, where he leans on his hands and stares at the bartender. Keline stands in the entryway for a moment, glancing this way and that, as she walks further into the smoke filled room. She is wearing her dress from the previous evening feeling that wearing Imperial uniform here might not be the best idea. She seems to be looking for someone. The doors open with a simple hiss; and again walks in the dump's most valuble patron; or at least, lately. Still clad in the same clothes as he had been in here yesterday; he makes an immediate b-line for the bar; with Kar standing behind it, holding another glass of whiskey for the man. Dareus laughs while the bartender hands it over, "Hair of the bantha....?" Skipping the usual immediate downing of the glass' contents, he holds his hand out, "Blaster..." The look on his face is that of both unshaven, and visibly hungover. Taking his jacket off, and placing it back on the barstool he had occupied the night before, he sits down; slowly nursing this drink...for now. Rarely does she wear or care to wear what is appropriate, Petra is a law unto herself and she seems to thrive that way. Stepping into the smoky bar, she looks around with an odd expression that seems to question her entire reason for coming here in the first place. Despite the dim lights she gleams like a a candle dressed all in white and silver. Moving towards the bar the tall, muscular woman comments drily, "If you have it, I would like a Selenian mineral water with a twist of caspian lime. If you don't have it...give me something that will not rot my gut..." Keline hasn't seem to have found who she was looking for, an annoyed expression crossing her face, before she hears Petra's voice. She turns to look at her, arching her eyebrows at her outfit, before she makes her way slowly toward the bar before coming to stand beside Petra. "Would I be disturbing you if I sat down with you?" "Ah yes," replies 'Jakob Pak', upon the bartender's acknowledgement of his stare. "Carian Martini." Before the bartender is able to pose a question, his eyes narrow. "Not stirred." He cants his head slightly to the side, observing Petra, a familiar face. There was not much different about his usual appearance, but... he had to maintain his cover until the poor spacer chap was gone for good. As it is, he turns again to the side, and gently sends a credit chit sliding down the edge of the bar, with pin-point accurate precision. The chit strikes a wayward glass, and is just enough to cause a loud 'ping'. The Corellian next to it jerks his arm in surprise, which knocks the glass over. Not realizing from where the chit came, the Corellian darts to his feet, scowling. "What the hell?" he shouts, loudly. As for Korynn, he merely casts a snake-like look from the corner of his eye, watching as his former prey darts to his feet and rushes from the building, paranoid. A knowing smirk enters his eyes, and he looks back forward with an air of accomplishment. Well, she's not about to get drunk again so easily. In fact, she considers never touching alcohol... like, ever again. She sits half-hidden in the back much as she had yesterday, keeping a close watch on the patronage of the Dig. At least she hasn't got a headache anymore. Johanna sighs to herself and sips at the water she's secured, rubbing at her eyes and lighting up a smoke, enjoying the way it settles her. One thing's for certain: this trip to Corellia has resulted in more than she'd bargained for. Usually that's a good thing though. Turning to study Keline, the Director-General hmms and inclines her head, "It would not be a problem..." The commotion causes Petra to turn her head, the emerald eyes scanning each face, not pausing on any one in particular..just filing away the information for reference before turning back to Keline. Receiving the water to her exacting standards, the redheaded woman squeezes the lime and dunks it into the cool glass before lifting it to her lips. Keline glances at the commotion herself before she takes a seat on the stool beside Petra as she rests her elbows on the bar before she gives Petra a smile. "Thank you. Running his hand through his hair; his eyes momentarily follow the sliding chit; almost amusing except for the pain in his head. He reaches into one of his coat pockets and withdraws a bottle of pills, and fires 2 down his throat; washing them down with a large sip of his whiskey; for health. Finally; the bartender returns, as well; handing the silver blaster over to Dareus; in a very obvious manner. Hell, look at the place they're in. Chuckling to himself for a moment, Antoine looks at him, "Careful Kar; don't want to cause problems with this high-class joint's reputation...." Korynn's gaze strays only once to the Corellian who's gotten his panties in a bunch. Playing as the casual observer, he turns his face forward, and shakes his head slightly, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. It will only require a few more moments of this undesirable game. The spacer he'd been 'speaking' with must leave the building, and that is primarily on his mind. When his Carian martini arives, his face forms a smile. Not an honest one, mind you, but an extremely good representation of one. "Thank you," he says generously, and swirls the martini a moment before sampling it. Then he sets it down, and starts counting in his head... waiting patiently before he allows himself to blow his cover. His little spacer friend is walking out the door. Oh, more Imperials. Is this the central bar of choice for the entire fleet complement? Why are they so hot about Corellia, anyway? Isn't Coruscant the big prize? The desert woman slouches a little lower in her seat, moving half into a shadow and narrowing her eyes. Some recon mission this is! She doesn't imagine she'll be telling Luke all the details. Just the broad idea. Yeah, that's it. Good call, Joh. Your Master doesn't need to know. Really. He DOESN'T. The thought makes her chuckle to herself and she lets the ash settle onto the table like dirty snow. Would he be disappointed to see her like this? Probably. With a glance around, Petra just cannot believe she felt the need to come to this place and relive old memories...she could have sworn it was a bit nicer then. Tilting her head back she finishes her water and scoots the glass towards the bar tender for more. Spinning about on her barstool she surveys the patrons with icy disdain, her bright green eyes taking each in turn, but she comments to Keline, "Congratulations are in order if I read my reports right Keline..." The warrior woman permits herself a faint smile, "It was a deserved promotion.." Keline walks looking around the room as well, but with curiousity as opposed to disdain, before she turns to look back at Petra and smiles ruefully. "A surprising one..but thank you. I'm beginning to grow into it. Davyd re-enters the dive, not long after Petra does. Out of habit he takes one step aside from the door and scans the interior before proceeding any further. Drawing in a deep breath, Korynn gently sets the martini a bit further away from him. The time for games was up, yet there's no sign of relief or dismay in his eyes. Instead, he pivots his attention toward Petra and Keline, observing both for a moment. There are no signs of an impending fight... it would seem his ploy worked, at least for now. The angry spacer's calmed down, most likely because the bartender was quick to get him another drink. "Congratulations are indeed in order," he comments, and a slighted smile comes to his face. Come to think of it, she's seen Petra in person before. On Caspar, in fact. She remembers quite well the other woman's arrogance and the troops that had accompanied her through Plaxton. Isn't she niece to old Dakar? Something like that. Johanna's mind tries to piece together the information she'd gleaned during her tenure at NRI, but something doesn't want to make sense. Thinking is difficult right now. Her fingers press into her closed eyes, the sensation a welcome one as the remains of her smoke die out and she scoots around in her seat. The other threads of conversation are quite interesting, if challenging to follow in her state. Finishing his glass of whiskey; he sets it down with an audible thud; before the bartender comes back, "Again?" A small nod from Dareus before he speaks, "Might as well, I gotta find out when I can make a funeral." Quickly, a whole bottle is placed next to the glass, "I guess you'll be here all night again." Emitting a small laugh, and taps his thigh holster, "Yeah; but you're not getting this from me tonight" Pulling a small medal of honor from his pocket, he runs it through his fingers; eyes slowly watching it's progression..."Ishin Il-Raz..."He says quietly to himself, bringing his left hand to grab the drink for another sip.' With a dry mmm, Petra comments, "Fleming, your enjoyment of toying with things that are below your expertise never ceases to amaze me.... So, was the few minutes of ignoring me worth the effort?" Her lips curve upwards slightly into a wry smile and she lifts a hand, beckoning Davyd in further. There are certain people who will always catch her eye no matter what she is, her right-hand...Davyd...being one of them. Keline glances over at Korynn, smiling a litle at him, before she glances at Petra with a surprised look that she quickly tries to conceal. She turns to the bartender. "I'll have the same, please." *she indicates Petra's drink.* Davyd smiles, imagine that, someone smiling at General Doom, he winds his way through the tables to her side "I thought I saw you come this way General" He nods to Keline "Commander. "Worth the effort? Perhaps, but desired? Hardly." His tone seems to sour somewhat, as if being in this place was suddenly unappealing to him. For a moment, he tries to guage Petra, as if he could discern exactly what it is she's thinking. He would have to explain to her, later, things that couldn't be explained now. Not in the open. "I had some important business to take care of." That should cover it. "You are well?" he asks, keeping his attention on Petra. "Do I look like I am in uniform?" Petra just scowls, "I am hardly in uniform...lets not kindly bandy about my title...I might have to be official or something..." She shudders and eyes her water, inquiring, "Did you get the troops taken care of? I would like them to overview Coresec training and see where they might need..." She pauses and then smiles faintly into her water, "encouragement...." Glancing sideways at Korynn she comments, "Business comes first, always... and yes, I am well enough..." Corellia is not her favorite place...though the planet did lend itself for some good outdoors activity so it is rare she actually comes indoors...indeed her nose is a bit pink from the sun. Curses. She's thirsty and her water is all gone. What does she do? Wave one of the crusty-looking wenches over, or slip to the end of the bar and return to her hiding place? She doesn't want to attract any attention to her secret location, but on the other hand wandering out into the open isn't the best option either. Maybe she can mess with someone's mind! YES. Make them all forget they ever saw her! Oh why does the Dig have to have so many beings? That's a lot of forgetting. Sigh. She ducks out of her corner and slinks among the drunks and the carousers, taking great care to remain as far, far away from the Imperials as possible. Thank goodness a whole group of Ithorians is blocking the line of sight between her and the others. "Water. Right now," she demands. As the one bartender who knows the man comes back to chat; he casually asks Dareus, "You heading back to the Navy then....you know the offer to work here still stands." Whilst taking a sip of his whiskey; he snorts, having some of the whiskey come out, rather painfully from his nostril; before he wipes his face off with a napkin, "I think I'd rather take my chances ANYWHERE else but here....this place is a shithole, no offence." The man shrugs, "None taken; but good luck seein ya in uniform again....Lieutenant Junior Grade..." He says with a coy smile; definately rubbing that last remark in; and having Dareus' eyes narrow rather quickly; "Ya know....if you weren't a friend of mine....I'd kill you right now...." Both laugh slightly; but the look on this middle aged drunkard shows a definate seriousness. Slipping back into the bar, which is a phrase that she's not at all familiar with using in context of actually doing it, Lynae scans the room, spotting enough familiar faces to lift one hand in a wave of greeting to those who notice a new entry to the room. She sidesteps around some smelly and inebriated ithorians and nearly smacks right in Johanna. A sudden grin forms on her face, she swears she's becoming nice at this point - resolves to stop that later - and says in a voice loud enough to carry to Johanna, "Water -and- something to handle the headache and stomach churning," she orders as well, for herself and for Johanna if she's interested. Davyd nods still smiling a bit "Ok, Petra" He sits down next to his boss "They finished thier training early" He smirks "I told them if they went through the course faster than my expectations they could get 12hrs leave." Chuckling lightly "I never told them my expectations. They completed the course in the fastest time I've seen." He motions for a drink "I will have the first squads landing in the morning to start training the Corsec units." Fleming listens to the conversations develop after turning a response to Petra. "Good. I must say, you've... exceeded my expectations." There's some kind of hidden meaning there. Something surely Petra would understand? "It wasn't exactly what I expected." "I am sure I can count on you Davyd to ensure that the Coresec troops are quite encouraged and that morale is boosted to where it should be..." Petra's comment is quite innocent... on the surface, but there is a cruelly humerous vein beneath. She turns her head towards Lynae's enthusiastic greeting, her brows furrow thoughtfully as she studies the woman beside Caiton. Glancing back at Davyd, Petra crosses her arms causing the white cloak to billow behind her. Glancing over at Korynn her lips quirk slightly and she merely says, "Do not ever underestimate me again Flemming..." though she was not *entirely* responsible for the matter, she has absolutely no problem taking the majority of the credit for it. "So, things are settling more easily into place for you Keline?" "Oh, sh.." Johanna cuts herself off, resolving not to swear in front of Lynae. "Hi. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks Doctor. But uh... I'm trying not to be... spotted by your associates, if you know what I mean?" She spares a paranoid, furtive glance over her shoulder. "I'm not fit to be seen this early and there are some in your group I really don't get along with." Like Petra. Yeah. Slowly she begins to remember why she dislikes Miss Doom. An irrational temptation to walk over to the woman and slug her briefly arises, but the pilot knows better than to brawl the Imperials on their own territory. "You stayed even later than I did, didn't you? Was it worth it?" Lynae maneuvers deftly to place herself between Johanna and the crowd, yet again a unusual tactic, but it just seems to be the right thing to do in light of.. well, in light of everything, that is. She glances around the room very casually, ostensibly removing her jacket in the process then sitting down beside Johanna. Instead of answering Johanna's question, she actually just smiles. Korynn bows his head slightly. "Indeed." He then glances to his chronometer. "I'm afraid I have yet more business to attend to." He looks past Petra to Keline, then back to Petra, and to Davyd, giving the collected group a single nod of his head, before he turns and strides for the door. "Why don't you make a point to coordiante with the planetary leader... on my behalf of course... make this a very diplomatic, official offer of assistance in boosting morale and increasing the standards of their training..." Petra smiles faintly and then mmms, "I think I am going to get out of here Davyd, the beach is calling, and I am giving myself a bit of leave time... and frankly all this smoke is sickening..." Along with a few members of Black Squadron, Wolf had orders to go and check up on any and all Imperial personell on the planet, orders from Tyler himself. But the reason he had come down straight away was he had recieved a garbled and unintelligible, he was slightly worried that the woman was in some sort of Danger. But from a quick scout around the Star Port he had heard rumours of her presence at the Smugglers dig cantina. " They're in there. " The Storm Troopers said after a quick enquiry from Wolf. He poked his head in the door and spotted the Commodore almost immediately. His eyes met his feet and they began to move, striding into the bar. Davyd smiles and nods "Ok Petra, I'll get with the Governor and work out a plan of action, enjoy the beach, if the meeting goes quickly I might join you. Standing up from his barstool; Antoine quickly grabs his jacket, and the bottle; promptly moving into one of the corner booths; good view of most people; but nicely out of the way. Placing one foot up along the bench; when he sees the storm troopers he instinctively places his hand on the blaster on his thigh holster; keeping the whole maneover somewhat hidden by the table, and the bottle that sits strategically on it. Something felt very wrong about that action....but times have changed. With a nod, Petra shrugs "If you want..." She flashes a suprisingly honest, warm smile at Keline, "Again, Congratulations on a well deserved promotion..." Slipping off her bar stool she gives a faint look to Dareus and ponders him for a moment only nodding to herself before heading out the door. "Then it was worth it," she laughs, "You're smiling. This is scandalous material, Doctor Caiton. Utterly scandalous. We're having fun, and not shooting at each other, or threatening one another with the infliction of pain. What's the galaxy coming to?" Johanna can't help it; she genuinely likes something about Lynae and feels almost at ease around the Imperial physician-turned-leader. "We're formidable, aren't we? I bet we could have the entire bar under our thumb in the span of a minute if we put our minds to it." Another chuckle. "I don't mind being out a few hundred creds. Last night was all kinds of interesting for everyone." And okay, it just got a little too interesting for her tastes with the arrival of the troopers. "Great," the pilot mutters. Keline smiles back at Petra, incling her head slightly in a bow, as she sits back up again. "Thank you." "Quite a big chance, Yes." Wolf said, his eyebrow raising slightly at the state of the Commodore. "Are you alright?" He asked, checking her up and down. She looked a little sick, but he didn't really know what to make of it. She wasn't the type to get drunk, if he remembered correctly, but that transmission said different. She can respect Lynae easily enough, and she can even respect to some degree the other Imperials in the Dig. But she can't bring herself to respect the troopers. "For... you? Oh....ok," the pilot stammers, backing up to put some more room between herself and the hated figures, her hand veritably itching to have the reassuring feel of a blaster pistol or a lightsaber in it, "In that case..." For now it's wisest to simply hang back and watch. Sarai has followed Wolf in calmly enough, and with all the unwielding and unconceling going on, the ensign and pilot sits in a corner. Caition is given a glance, but she does manage to keep a straight face. Caiton turns an unbecoming shade of pink as Wolf and a few members of his squadron give her that quizzical gaze that indicates they're not entirely sure if their CO is half baked or not. Lynae coughs, "Yes, well, I am. Quite, that is. I apologize," she hastily adds in a soft voice, "I appear to have had a bit to drink last night and um at some point I decided I should return to the ship and you were the first person I thought to call for a lift." As she and Wolf step aside to speak quietly the rest of the squad members that joined Wolf are signaled that they may disperse into the Bar as well, limited Liberty having been extended again. Once Wolf and Lynae finish speaking he ducks out to signal the shuttle to power down, that pilot also allowed Liberty. Caiton returns to Johanna's side and takes ahold of her drink again, "Sorry," she says quietly. "Don't worry about it." Something in Johanna's gaze belies this casual dismissal however, her nerves still bristling. It takes a moment for her to settle down. "Subordinates have this annoying tendency to follow one like little lost pets," she snorts, "I don't know what the policy is on taking some initiative in the Imperial military, but. Sheesh. Do they get let off their leashes now and then? It makes for a much less annoying bunch in general. At least in my experience." Though really, some people were just incorrigible and couldn't be coaxed, bribed, or threatened to change. Taking a second look at the bottle before him, Dareus stands up, still keeping his right hand near his blaster; moves over to the front of the bar, "Caf....double strong, double sweet..." After a few minutes of him tapping his fingers on the top of the table; he grabs his new steaming mug of something that finally won't make him drunk; and at the very least; and easier target. Heading back towards the table, he moves slowly, taking a bit of extra care to dodge the newly arrived Stormtroopers, as if that wasn't very noticable though. "They're a bit nervous still," Caiton says with a shrug of one shoulder, "the former captain of the Inquisitor met with an unexpected dismissal. It'll take them time to settle in. Plus, there's the whole fact that I'm of the 'female persuasion', which makes them all a bit squirrely. Though that's an odd way to phrase it, like there's someone who persuades us which gender to be during gestation." She waves off that thought, "They'll settle down eventually." As she says this she notes the familiar skulking form of Mr Criminal himself and slips off of her chair and snags Dareus by the elbow, "Ahh yes, there you are. You were going to join us, correct?" she asks. Really, she's far too old to be blushing. But did Lynae have to go get Dareus's attention? The pilot stares into her glass, pretending to be engrossed in the intricacies of how the molecules move. Or something like that. Yes, think science. Think about the training with Luke, learning to sense and navigate atomic structure through the Force. Okay, good topic. The bucket of sand that fused into glass at her touch. A windy afternoon up on the roof on Coruscant, with the shield down, learning to control the movement of the air. A showdown with twelve training remotes set to something markedly more unpleasant than 'stun'. It's a good tactic and before long Johanna has relaxed, half lost in thought. Dammit, caught again, well, at least she's not in the white deathtrap suit. "Of course Commodore...although..." He looks at a few of the stormtroopers who look as fun as a grenade in the shorts, "I hope that you're not going to get into any issues with NHC by having me around alive...." A soft chuckle comes out of his mouth; while he takes a sip; still glancing around the room out of the corner of his eye. Spotting Johanna once he gets closer to the area they were all conversing; he raises an eyebrow; hell, this is now pretty damned awkward for him....although Dareus just leaves it to comfortable silence; since he enjoys his body parts still attached. The musky smoke that fills the bar strikes the human women's nose as soon as she opens the door. The haze and thick air does not however hamper her vision so much that she can't see an open table facing the bar and the door. Perfect she thinks, as she moves in that direction, slipping through or past spacers and ground pounders alike. getting through the pack relatively free from being accosted, Jal'Dana reaches the open stool and slided into it. The wooden platform is uneven, of course, but then again one wouldn't expect less in this place. Nynaeve steps in through the doorway and looks around the cantina. She wrinkles her nose a bit at the smoke and clears her throat before heading over to the bar. She get's the bartender's attention and orders something to drink. She then looks around for someplace to sit down. "I believe I can handle any issues the NHC has regarding your return," Lynae says calmly and continues steering Dareus towards where she was seated with Johanna. Is she aware of the tension that Dareus seems to be emitting? Probably so. Is she getting some sort of fiendish delight in doing this anyway? More than likely. She reclaims her seat then neatly maneuvers it so that she's sitting to the left of Johanna with Dareus to the right. Catching sight of a more sober looking Johanna in the corner sitting at a table talking to friends, Nynaeve heads over. "Hello again, Johanna." Riiiight, nice conversation starter. "Uh...I suppose so..." Dareus sounds more confused about how relevant that would be in any damned scenario; oh well. He takes another sip of his coffee before turning back to the Commodore, "Well, it's not the first time I've been up to my elbows in it; but oh well. Who knows where the hell I'll end up next; may be back in the Navy; Intel; hell; I'm not sure of anything right now as it is." He sets the cup on the table; seemingly content to stand; crosses his arms over his chest, and smirks, "Or maybe I'll just be a freelance assassin..." He always did turn to joking in weird and tense situations; but that one does kind of take the cake; if it were fully a joke. Caiton rests one elbow on the bar, leaning forward to reply to Dareus while including Johanna in the conversation, "Ah lets see," she muses, "ah wait for it. No. Why in the name of all that is logical would we just let you go rambling off after all this time? There's a saying in the Navy: one a navy officer always a navy officer. Don't make me drag you back, kicking and screaming. I'd hate to have to do that." She keeps her face as straight as possible, "Do you really want to retire at this point? Johanna, why do men make such garbled decisions?" One of the gruffer looking member's of this dive's staff wattles over to the small table the female spacer sits at. Busy trying to balance on the uneven seat, Jal'Dana pays little attention to his approach, and only looks up as the beings clears his throat. "What'll be lady" the man says in a heavy accented voice. Reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few credits, she slides it across the table, "Whiskey, one bottle and one glass." say answers in a raspy voice. SHe would have added 'a clean' one, but she doubts that would matter much, and the pollution she was about to fill heself with made the need for that pointless. The alcohol should kill off more things living, as well as a few brain cells. "I don't know," Johanna replies rather too loudly to Lynae, her gaze darting back and forth between the two, "How would I know? It's not like I would know anything. I don't know. OKAY?" Sure, Joh. Sure. Why don't you just scream that you're very busy again? The effect is equally charming. Oh, well! The arrival of Nynaeve is a welcome distraction. "Hi Nyn," she nods, "I see you too find this place more fun than it likes to let on. What brings you back? I never knew you to be the drinking type. Are you looking for trouble? You can get into a lot of trouble here. Not that I would know. Really." Nynaeve's brows raise and she gets a crooked smile on her face. "Am I looking for trouble? That's an interesting question. Not really since trouble seems to have no trouble findng me on it's own. May I have a seat?" Taking a seat, albeit a little farther from Johanna than yesterday, Dareus leans back a bit, taking the cup in his hand, "Well, I should have been a Captain by now; and I guarantee, the Admiral's Bars are long gone from that future." Occasionally he glances at Johanna, as if wondering if he'll be cut in two pieces sometime soon or not; "Times like this I would ask Lord Malign for advice; but that would probably result in me being a personal aide or something boring like that." The morbidly obese barman grunts as he pockets the credits and shuffles off. Just a few moments later he returns. With surprising quickness for one of his bloated size, he deftly places the full bottle of amber liquid down on the table, as one fist size glass. Taking the bottle and pulling out the stopper, Jal'Dana pours the first shot of the liquid into her glass and down it in one swallow. The warmth spreads first through her chest the up her throat and down into the belly. With her thumb, she lifts a small drop off the corner of her mouth and wipes it over her lips. Deeply breathing in the smoky air, the pilot takes a few moments not really look at who she is drinking near. When her eyes catch the figure of the short raven haired Doctor, now Commander of an Imperial task force. The blue eyes never leave the good doctor as Jal'Dana deftly pours herself a second shot, downing that one as well. Surveying Johanna with a quirked eyebrow, Lynae settles in with her drink, something not particularly alcoholically potent this time, and suppresses the urge to chuckle softly at the volume and the tone of Johanna's reply. She looks up and nods a greeting to Nynaeve, "You can always ask me for advice, Dareus. I do offer it, from time to time. I don't mind. The advice is free, the experience is what costs." A meeting between Tyler and Dareus? Yes. Absolutely. "Actually," Johanna pipes up, "That's a fabulous idea." She turns in her seat so that she's facing Dareus and stares at him unblinkingly, looking not only into the surface chatter of his conscious mind but past that into the energy around him as well. A predatory smile forms on her lips. Oh, the weak-willed. Her gaze finally shifts to Lynae. "Doctor Caiton? I'm sure my brother would be happy to meet with him. He needs an assistant." Actually, her older sibling has a nasty penchant for shooting turncoats and people who touch his sister, but she doesn't mention that part, confident that Lynae knows this... or will, in a second, for she speaks to the physician through the Force, her voice projected into Lynae's mind. "You'll get a good deal of amusement out of the encounter," Johanna silently promises Lynae, "A good deal." Then, aloud, "Tyler's been looking for someone for a while now. Oh and Nynaeve, you're always welcome to have a seat." "Thankyou." Nynaeve takes a seat at their table and sips a clear bubbling drink before setting it down. She removes a long small case from out of her jacket and sets it on the table. Opening the case and revealing a small woodwind instrument, Nynaeve looks at others seated at the table and says,"I hope you don't mind...?" She smiles. Caiton coughs quietly, nearly spitting her drink onto the table. She hastily covers her lips with a napkin, casting a brief glance over at Johanna, flicking her gaze towards Dareus, then slapping her best neutral expression on her face and sticking with it. She nods towards Nynaeve again in greeting, "Not at all," she replies, meaning 'go ahead'. Nynaeve sets the woodwind close to her lips and lets her breath glide across the mouthpiece. Her song begins with a twill reminiscent of that feeling that young lovers' feel whenever they see their first crush. The notes then twickle down into a lazy flow, suggesting a long slow day in summer with a hint of a mild breeze in the air. Running her fingers through her hair, Jal'Dana bunches the loose mane up and twists a band around it to form a loose ponytail. No one wants hair in their drink, not even their own. She keeps watching the odd mix at Caiton's table, and pours herself another glass. This time she doesn't down it, even a seasoned drinker like Rall knows at her weight she'll be plastered in just a couple more if she doesn't slow down. Already, the pleasing fuzziness has started to creep around the edges of her mind. The smile from Johanna's lips; even seem to amuse Antoine in the very best ways. It's easy to know what she probably has in mind; for even he knows her brother well enough to guess that. Then again; a thought of all the weird converstations he's had with the Sith crosses his mind; as well as how many times their anger overtakes all reason. "If you're expecting him to split my head open with his mind; I really could care less; that's the least of my concerns." Quite frankly; he should be very terrified at the thought; but anyone who's been with him in combat; he's not afraid of death in the least little bit. This entire line of the conversation is visibly amusing the hell out of Dareus. Taking the last bit of his coffee from his cup; he motions to the waiter for another one, "Ingenius plan Johanna...I gotta give you that much. But why don't you just do that yourself...or would that put a bit more of the dark side into you...that could very well disappoint your boss." All a mere game to him at this point; even though he's half-heartedly expecting some debilitating injury. Turning to Lynae, "What's your whole take on the impromptu resignation? Seeing as how you're now the top woman in charge." A quick smile of approval towards Nyaeve, before Dareus smiles again at Lynae, and a playful smile while he eyes Johanna once again. Of no moderate talent, Nynaeve as a child was considered a prodigy with instruments- particularly the woodwinds and it still shows when she plays. As she continues to play, and half listen to the discussion about what direction Dareus's life should take, she thinks of a different direction her's could have taken. She could have been a Maestra bowing to the applause of an audience instead of joining the New Republic Military and becoming a pilot. How different things would have been. Would she have skipped much of the suffering in her life that way? who could tell? Would she have really felt fullfilled in front of those audicences opposed to sitting in a cockpit fighting for the freedom that members of the New Republic enjoyed? The music takes on a melancholy sort of sound, like how an older person feels when looking back over lost opportunities and possibilities gone to the past. "Oh now see, that just wouldn't be sporting of him, or me. A telekinetic kill is perpetrated easily enough. I can stop your heart from beating, or your collapse your chest, or disrupt the pressure in your peritoneal cavity. But what fun is that? Seriously, now." She leans back in her chair and plants her dirty boots up on the table, offering Lynae a silent apology and hating herself a little for wrecking the pleasant musical interlude courtesy Nynaeve. But business is business, and Johanna's business usually has something to do with killing. "If you had even a shred of respect for Doctor Caiton, I would forgive you your crass manner and overlook the fact that were I your CO, I'd have you cleaning the deckplating with your tongue. Be very, very glad I'm not your CO. And as for the dark side?" Johanna throws back her head and laughs, "Please. My brother may be a slave to it but I serve a far more elegant Master. Now do yourself a favor and show your superior some deference." Jal'Dana is a former TIE pilot, naval commander and the current Military Advisor to Lord Korolov. But none of that is as important as the simple fact, she is buzzed. Normally, she stays far away from Commodore Caiton. The Doctor and Jal'Dana often didn't see eye to eye on Naval issues, and well Lynae was a Doctor and Dana had a very bad case of white coat syndrome. Still she has had enough of the chair, and enough of looking at the back of Lynae's head. Snatching the bottle and the glass she stands up, and makes her way over towards the music and the seated people. Beginning a new song to banish away the melancholy direction the last one took, Nynaeve plays calmness with a hint of breezyness to it. It is an inhaling and exhaling of adagio notes that suggests a theme of meditation. It is also a counterpoint to the direction the conversation at the table is taking. "Actually, Commodore, Women make far better line officers and commanders than men. Their tactics, battle plans, ideas, even command style doesn't stink of pride or stupid bravado." He can think of a few men he's served with that fit that very description to the letter. "The idiotic idea of gender segregation in the Military is thankfully; long gone, save for several stupid people left in the Navy to continue their own personal prejudices." Turning somewhat towards Johanna once again, he feels himself supremely amused about a whole argument based on the differences between the two sides of the coin, "Elegant, if you want to call it that, fine. But remember, all of us in the temple felt something that day; and I don't mean the stench of the leviathan's hot breath. We all fought together on that day for the most simplistic of reasons...sheer survival. There were no governments on that planet; just us trying to make it off of that rock in one piece." A simple thought crosses his mind...he can see on her face, the arrogance and anger that so easily overtakes her...what an amusing predicament that must be; constantly weighing good between bad; the 'elegant' path, or the one of power...silently, but noticeably in his face, a laugh quietly arrives, and disappears just as quick. "I prefer to call it Testosterone Driven Illogic," Caiton replies quietly, not contributing more at the moment as his next comments to Johanna cause that eyebrow to arch upwards again. She finds her drink empty and turns in her chair, smiling briefly at Nynaeve continues to play a refreshing breath of music in the bar. As she turns she spots Jal'Dana headed this way, rising from her own chair to greet Jal'Dana as she approaches. Whiskey bottle in hand, Jal'Dana notices Lynae's empty glass and pours some of the musky sented whiskey into the glass, filling it halfway. "No need to go far, Doctor" the raspy voiced woman says. "No one wants to drink alone." As of yet, Jal'Dana hasn't taken a closer look at Caiton's table mates, and if she had she might have to rethink this, however she is blissfully unaware. refusing to address Lynae as Commodore could be taken in many ways, all of which might apply. Shifting her neck side to side, it pops and cracks. Filling her own glass, Jal'Dana waits to see if Lynae invites her to sit, or just takes the drink. Getting a better hold on her now refilled glass, Caiton surveys Jal'Dana for a silent moment, her blue eyes intently focused on Jal'Dana's face, trying to read just what it is in her expression that will give her clues. "Very true," she says simply, making a deliberate choice to set aside her usual enforced neutrality and let her respect show clearly in her eyes, in her expression. "Care to join us?" she asks simply, the invitation offered in the best possible tone of voice. For a moment Johanna feels as if she might be forced to break his neck. She slips a hand on his shoulder, fingers slowly trailing to the back where they rest lightly on the knobby protrusions of the cervical vertebrae that lie beneath the skin. One measured movement, and the thing could fracture to the point of shattering into fragments. At the sound of Jal'Dana's neck popping however, she withdraws her hand and takes hold of her glass again. "No," she replies, "I fought because Kreldin held my son hostage. Your presumption is as ludicrous as it is self-serving. Do you honestly think you would have left Ord Trasi alive -- oh, to say nothing of the survival of your favorite Grand Admiral -- had the old man not arranged for that kind of leverage? Don't assume to know me. I keep my temper far enough in check so as not to present a threat, but if you are ever so arrogant as to try and engage me on my own territory, you won't soon forget what it means to bring forth my ire." The music suddenly stops as Nynaeve lowers the woodwind from her lips. "Perhaps another time." She smiles and slips the instrument back in it's case. She slips the small case back into her Jacket and takes another sip of her drink before standing. "Johanna, I'm afraid I have to go for now and can't stay." She looks around at everyone and smooths her jacket saying, "It was good to meet with you again." Up until now Lanil had been content sitting in a corner, drinking away at his Lum. He'd paid a passing mind to the conversation, but now he is almost compelled to jump in, "Yours is a mind driven by intense passion, this yeilds to a great amount of power and energy for you to draw forth your actions. You are an enigma, Johanna. Not the stoic, passive Jedi, nor the rageful cunning Sith. You are simply someone who has been given a gift with which to channel your emotions, and for that, I toast to you, the enemy of my dearly departed friend, which is a rare feat indeed, to merit a toast to the enemy. Congratulations." He raises his glass and downs the last of his drink. Doctor Caiton's tone catched Jal'Dana slightly off guard and in her typical reaction, as single eyebrow arches up. A wry smile spreads across her lips and with a mind full of whiskey replies, "I'd love to.." a pharse they seldom leaves her mouth. Follow the good Doctor over towards the table, Ms. Rall is blind to the tension between the stunning female and her young looking debater. Pausing as she reaches the table, Jal'Dana waits for Lynae to gesture towards an open seat. A sharp nod to the bartender, and Dareus' bottle of whiskey is on it's way; this time, he would defintely stay sober enough. A replay of last night crosses his mind; and then the thought of a familiar snap-hiss that would be the last sound he would hear. Undoubtedly she knows his thoughts; probably has been all night. With a pleasant smile, he turns to Nynaeve, and nods, "Thank you for the wonderful music....it's always a treat in a dump like this." As the whiskey arrives he pours himself a glass, and sets the bottle down in the middle of the table, a small moment of contemplation. "Your son is alive and well, that was a cruel moment of using an innocent..." The fingers on the back of his neck left a tingle down his spine, not of fear, but an impressive respect to her restraint...undoubtedly the thought made her feel quite good though. He's taking entirely too much pleasure with this ancient philosophical debate. A brief thought of her brother speaking with him in the Medical Bay of the Broadsword flashes his mind...Malign's deep voice resonating through his body...'We will be in touch. I may have use for you.' He shakes the thoughts off, and continues, "Kill me all you want, it makes no difference to me Johanna. How about a simple thank you for a new outlook that you've given me..." He wants desprately to smirk at that; but then there wouldn't be a pleasant scene at all, in this dismal bar. Another day on Corellia, another night in the cantina. Vassily Korolov makes his way into this seedy yet charming watering hole, his cloak has been left back at the ship as he makes his way in. Again, the presnece of the Jedi Knight does not escape his notice, almost like a blinding light in his frontal lobe. He reaches up with a gloved hand as he pauses momentarily before glancing around, letting his eyes adjust to the shift of light, so many familiar faces, somuch potential for chaos. "My brother troubles your thoughts," Johanna sighs, lighting up a decidedly illegal variety of smoke -- otherwise she might really just jump up and start killing people -- "I can hear him rattling around in your mind. Do you admire something about him? I assure you he and I are quite alike. We're both pilots who got sick of the way our governments do business. The only difference is that he decided it was better to stab people in the face rather than negotiate, though apparently his new Master advocates less direct as a tactic." She inhales a great lunful of the calming substance before finding the balance to reply to Lanil. "Look, COMPNOR," she begins, "You don't know a thing about me. Oh, I know I've got a file and I even had a cute little bounty on my head once, but what do you really know? Hmm?" Her chair tips back a bit more and she already finds herself less inclined to cut people open, "See now, I can tell you that your friend Korolov just walked in. And how do I know that? Well, it's not something I could cram into your brain with words. Similarly, you can't sum up what I am through a bunch of ridiculous second-hand observations." Surveying Lanil for a moment then glancing towards Dareus then Johanna, Caiton makes the decision to sit this one out and only referee, or mop up, if needed. She gestures Jal'Dana to take one of the open chairs, then deliberately seats herself so she has a good view of Johanna, Lanil and Dareus. Perhaps her sense of humor is piqued. Perhaps she just want's to see how it plays out. Turning the offered chair around Jal'Dana straddles it as she sits, folding her arms across the top of the back. Placing her own bottle down in front of her, it takes a moment for her to put it all together. No wonder Doctor Caiton was so pleasent, she had just invited her to side down with none other than Johanna Siri te Danaan, the one pilot that had very nearly ended her life over the skys of Kuat Drive Yards two years ago. A Jedi, sister of a Sith, tried before the Senate, friend of Ikihsa Enb'Zik her nemesis in a fighter. Looking back at catian, she thinks...god I had Doctors. Korolov offers the Jedi a brief nod of acknowledgement as he makes his way towards the bar, whiskey is what he is craving the single malt behind the bar will suit the itch just fine. He spots his new advisor and offers her a brief smile before he gets to the bar, " I would like a bottle of your best single malt." After a moment, the bartender returns with a hand labeled dark green bottle with a cork stopper, setting it and a mostly clean glass down in front of the warlord, he waits for the credits in payment before going off about his business. The Imperial obliges him by paying before he turns around to look for a seat. Finishing another glass of whiskey quite quickly, and beginning to pour another one, pretentious woman, isn't she. Taking a sip before leaning back in his chair, "There's something to be admired for all Sith...they are destined to rule the galaxy. Your very own Jedi council proved itself failing just as the Republic was destined to fade into history; becoming nothing but a memory." Nursing the glass in his hand, and leaning back somewhat in his chair moreso than before, in a comfortable reclining position, Dareus simply states, "In either case, we could sit here a solid week arguing back and forth over this all; so I shall just leave it alone now. As interesting as this conversation has been; I must say that I did have a far better time yesterday; until I woke up with my headache, that is." Silently, he wonders what Skywalker would think of that entire situation; but then again, he'll have his own retributions to pay; if he heads back into the Empire. Quite a standoff, in that respect; still, the last day and a half's worth of events cause him to smile just a little bit; meanwhile watching Johanna for any hint of emotion, the best he could hope for at this point in time. Fuzzy eyes and slightly dulled reaction time, Jal'Dana focuses her blue eyes on the man speaking in stuch a blind disregard for his own life. "Fools rush in where spirits fear to tread" she says very softly under her breath, and then more in a converastional tome to Caiton, "Why do I know this man?" He does look fimilar to Dana, though she can't place the man who clearly has a deathwise. The tone and arrogance are known. Caiton is going to answer that, honest, but is paged with a message from her ship and excuses herself. She surveys the room, everyone she knows, and decides that she needs some fresh air anyway. She speaks quietly to Jal'Dana as she finishes her glass and stands up from the table, "Antoine Dareus," she says by way of answer followed by, "excuse me," in a very polite tone of voice then heads out of the bar. Spotting several familiar faces, the Imperial warlord, takes his newly acquired bottle and heads towards the seat recently vacated by Commodore Caiton. Dropping down into the seat the Imperial warlord sets his ante on the table and uncorks it, pouring a glass, " I should buy a few distilleries while my flagship is here. My own brand of Whiskey would be a fine idea." He raises his glass first towards Jal'Dana then Johanna, "To friends and enemies." He takes a drink from the glass, savoring the burn of the whiskey down his throat before letting out a contented breath. "You know," the Jedi says, "It's not that you've seen me with my pants down. I'm a freethinking sort of person like that. Show me a good time and everything's fine. I enjoyed myself." A knot of anger slowly begins to uncoil as she rises, discarding the last of what has thus far been an efficient deterrent for violence. The embers flare for a moment before they're snuffed out by the heel of the pilot's old boot. "It's that you're possibly the most annoying entity I've ever encountered. You don't even know how to play the game. You see Lord Korolov over there? He knows the rules. One insult for another. One threat for another. Crossing wits and blades is a fine sport. You, however, do not have the luxury of possessing either of those weapons. Now stand up." And, as Dareus had predicted, there is the palming of her lightsaber as the white blade ignites and she waits, battle-ready, to decapitate her opponent. Looking first at Korolov to Johanna and then back to Korolov, Jal'Dana's voice catches in her throat. As the Jedi stands and the fair woman's lightsaber rapidly growing with the deadly seduction of the glowing light coming to life. Composure returns to the Warlord's Advisor and she is able to say to him, "My Lord. Death is a punishment to some, to some a gift and to many a favour. I think in this case it just might be all three. In combat, Jal'Dana was aggressive and ruthless but this was not her fight. She was also no fool, and didn't even move towards her blaster, which hung at her leg. No, the chestnut haired woman took another shot of her whiskey, and for the fools sake, hoped his death was quick. Wolf's head dips slightly as he enters through the Cantina door, Again. They still hadn't move from their positions, except this time 'Dana was there and the Jedi had her lightsaber out and blaring. He folded his arms and stepped to the side quickly as to get out of the way of those exitting. He shook his head, 'I whould get these people back to the ship.' Wolf thought, 'This might get out of hand.' He eyed Jal'Dana before his gaze went back to the Jedi. "Awww, Johanna." The Sith Warrior groans as his hand slips to his hip curling around the hilt of his own lightsaber but not igniting it yet. She was still posturing and rather than let anyone get cut down and turn this into a full on duel, he drains his glass, setting it down. " This never ends well. How about I buy a round for the whole damn bar?" He pours another glass of whiskey as he sits back in his chair, glancing back again at Dana, "This is the downside of liberty I suppose." His tone becomes quite serious as he eyes the Pilot, "Lieutenant, It would behoove you to not anger her any further, most of the Jedi will refrain from attacking an unarmed foe, but this one, sometimes she slips and while I ma sure she will feel bad about it later, you will most certainly be dead about it now." The Sith laughs at himself and takes a drink of his whiskey. Most people would effectively stand up to face their face, or try to run like hell from anyone in this day and age who bore a lightsaber as a weapon. Dareus does neither. A look of sincere amusement is on his face by this point; and he simply stays leaning back in his seat, and finishing his glass of whiskey; taking the bottle again to fill it up. He's almost on the verge of laughing; which would probably be a suicidal idea at that moment in time... "Well done Johanna, I'm sure even your brother would be proud of you killing a man in cold blood. Hell, even I'm proud of you for how quick your reactions are..." A man who should be afraid; isn't there right now, his mind floods with thoughts of anticipation, and wonderment about how this would all play out. Maybe one of the worst parts, is that she damn well knows he's not afraid of her. Taking the bottle back in his right hand, he slides it towards Johanna, "Have a drink...I think you need it; albeit not quite as much as me." He contemplates correcting Korolov that he currently, holds absolutely no rank; but then again, it would be a bad idea as well, to piss off the only person in here who could stop her lightsabers arc before it slit him in half; but he can even simply look on her face; and runs through his mind...she wouldn't feel bad, she would probably enjoy it entirely. So much like her brother...strong willed, smart, and damned determined. Wolf smirks a little as her violence was actually aimed towards Dareus. His eyes met Korolov however and a smile infected a small part of his mouth. He made his way around, quite far around infact and flanked Dana. His elbow hit the bar as he just decided to view the situation further. Being a Sith was truly a matter of ego before heroism. The Lieutenant was making his own bed and as good of a pilot as he was, they were all replaceable and few were worth risking the Sith's own existance. He takes another sip of his whiskey as his gaze shifts from Dareus to Johanna, "This place really needs a good menu of pub food. I realized last night and again tonight that the food choice here is quite unsatisfactory. A plate of Kadu wings or fried tubers would hit the spot right now, don't you agree, Jal'dana?" He was being quite informal on this trip, using first names rather than honorifics with just about everyone he had come across. Jal'Dana says, "Umm, sure My lord" Jal'Dana replies her buzz now gone and her eyes watching the deadly drama unfold before her eyes. Dareus...she knew the name now. He had returned from prision, and it had done little to temper his attitude. Her hand does go to her blaster, a move she wonders if Korlov will stop. She has no aim on shooting the jedi though, that would be foolish and end in her death. No, she might just take out Dareus. A well placed shot, and the threat is over. Striking him down might cause the unstable woman to find her inner peace again and prevent Jal'Dana from being in harms way. The man's life was worth less than nothing to her, and less than that when she compaires it to her own aims." She looks at him over her the bright white of her lightsaber and considers. By the Maker, Korolov is right. She's not quite like the other Jedi. She'll probably be sorry about it later... but not now. Much like she has seen Aurejin do in battle, she measures the distance needed for a single, perfect killing stroke. Her posture shifts and she pivots inward, bringing the tip of the weapon down cleanly on her opponent's shoulder. It's just enough to sear and cut the fabric of his jacket before she snorts, "I wouldn't sully my blade with your blood. It's too important for that." The lightsaber is deactivated and returned to her side. Her gaze hardens; Johanna isn't done yet. There's a ripple in the Force as the pilot draws upon the skill she learned while in the grip of the current Emperor and an invisible power begins to close in around Dareus's throat. Malign favors this tactic as well. "I have tried to be reasonable," she says, "I have really tried. But..." the grip tightens, "Some people just don't listen." The simple sound of a glass slipping from Dareus' hand, and shattering on the floor, is the only noise he hears once the lightsaber is disengaged. Slowly his face begins to turn red, although his hands don't move to pry the invisible hands from his throat; there's really little point in that hopeless endeavor. While the grip begins to overtake his bodily functions, the vessels in his eye can visibly be seen expanding; making him look near demonic, albeit slowly. He leans somewhat forward on the table, gently gasping for air; although even that possibility is completely gone out the window. Jal'Dana says, "Much like money, a fool and his life are soon parted" Jal'Dana says to Lord Korolov. "And now, if you'll excuse me My Lord. I have had too much to drink..." Pushing the chair back, Jal'Dana's hand moves away from her hip and said blaster and she uses both hand to push off the table and stand up. Turing in the direction away from the Jedi and towards the door, she needs not see this. Jal'Dana had watched the Warlord murder an officer in this very way just day ago. It was the first time she had seen anything like it, and it had turned her insides out. Never in her life had she thought such powers were real..yet here they were on display again. With a few heavy steps, she passes through what remains of the crowd to the door. One Short Aqualish male makes to grab her rearend as she walks by him. A sharp heel to his foot later, and she free of his unwelcome advances and she pushes out the door." The surge of dark energies cause a grin to cross the Sith's face. He can feel the Jedi slip into old habits. His master would be pleased from that development, though he probably knew it would happen a thousand years ago. The Sith returns to his glass, emptying it as Jal'Dana Rall excuses herself, before settling back into his seat, enjoying the sudden high that makes the alcohol he had just drunk seem like water in comparison. "Some people... just... DON'T... LISTEN," Johanna repeats, feeling the tendrils of the dark side wanting to snake their way through her brain and take over for her, make it easy and natural for her to kill another human being and walk over their corpse on her way to the door. When she senses that Dareus has taken enough punishment to warrant keeling over unconscious, she releases the unnatural hold and feels a sense of loathing for what she's done. Admittedly, it's mixed with a generous helping of satisfaction. She turns, moving to where Korolov sits and runs a hand through her hair. "You liked that show, didn't you? Of course you did. Just as well." Then, in lower tones, "I have a favor to ask." Dareus simply slides from his chair, having his head, and face slam nice and hard into the remnants of his broken drink glass; his lungs finally, being able to fill with air due to the release of the grip on his throat. The Sith's grin remains as he opens his eyes and stares up at the Jedi, "It's the best drug ever." As she continues to speak, his right eyebrow peaks into an arch, "You, asking me for a favor? Well now, first a touch of the old power and now making deals with a devil. This has been a most interesting evening, Johanna, how can I be of assistance?" The effects of the alcohol seem to have long been forgotten at this point as he sits up, gloved fingers folding across his chest as he tilts his head, obviously interested in what she has to say next. "I'm not so stupid as to think that what I just did was acceptable for someone in my position," Johanna replies, "And I have no time to find my brother and request this of him. Skywalker expects me back too soon. I need you to..." she glances over her shoulder and edges in, "... I need you to..." Here she takes a seat, obviously finding this very difficult to say, "Erase that memory. Hell, erase the whole day if you have to. Like I said, I don't have time to find Tyler, and I can't do this to myself. No doubt you'll have this to laugh about for years to come, but I know that payment won't suffice. I'm wealthy and I can compensate you for your time." "I see." The Sith's expression changes, "This seems a good time for me to recount a story. I know about Kreldin's trip to Ord Trasi. Lord Valak charged me with overseeing the ...facilities... located there." He pours a glass and lifts it, watching the dark beverage before looking at the Jedi again. "In my latest inventory. Something was found to be ....missing." I am fairly certain that Kreldin would not have been brazen enough to steal from the temple, nor would any of his subordinates done so without his authorization, which leaves you." He takes a sip of the beverage before setting it back down, "Which would appear to be most fortuitous, as you now posses something I wish to have, and I posses the ability to do something that you cannot do to yourself." She flushes, knowing exactly what he's talking about. Johanna had "liberated" a scroll detailing some unspeakably dark arts from its place in the gallery. Too afraid to show it to Luke and too curious to destroy it, the pilot has kept it in her starfighter, figuring that one of these days she's probably going to decide to change her habits for the better and chuck it out of her ship from a few hundred meters up, into a lake or volcanic pit or something that would just consume the object whole. "Yes, I have it. Very near, in fact. You could get it now if you wanted. I've not been able to decipher most of it anyway. The trade is fair." "It would appear that we have come to an agreement then." He leaves the passed out pilot and the half-empty bottle on the table as he rises, "Though I do suggest that after I am done, it would probably be lest for you to leave the system in the very new future." He slips his hands to the small of his back as he looks towards the entrance to the cantina, "Anytime you are ready."